Bordering Warm
by KLMeri
Summary: It's hot enough to be summertime on Earth, except they're on a starship in the coldness of space. Somebody has tampered with Environmental, and oddly the captain of the ship is not upset about it at all. K/S/M. - COMPLETE
1. Part One

**Title** : Bordering Warm (1/2)  
 **Author** : klmeri  
 **Fandom** : Star Trek AOS  
 **Pairing** : pre-Kirk/Spock/McCoy  
 **Summary** : It's hot enough to be summertime on Earth, except they're on a starship in the coldness of space. Somebody has tampered with Environmental, and oddly the captain of the ship is not upset about it at all.  
 **A/N** : There is no good excuse for this silliness. I just wanted some Enterprise shenanigans. Oh, and inept wooing.

* * *

A short beep signals an incoming call: " _Sickbay to Bridge._ "

A man in command-gold cuts himself off mid-sentence, falling out of his relaxed stance against the deck railing to reach the captain's chair. There he answers, unrushed, "Kirk here. Bones. First time I've heard from you all day."

" _Some of us don't have time for chatting._ "

Kirk looks startled but recovers quickly enough after clearing his throat. "What can I do for you, Doctor?"

" _You can come down to Sickbay, Captain. I need your… input… on somethin' from my medical log._ "

The deliberate pause and the mention of a medical log ensures the ship's senior medical officer gains the sharper side of Kirk's attention.

"On my way," the captain responds. Ending the communication with a deft punch of a finger, he jogs up the steps connecting the upper and lower levels of the bridge. The officer with whom the captain was previously engaged in discussion (that is, chatting with, as described by the all-knowing Dr. McCoy) tracks Kirk's progress toward the turbolift with a level stare.

Kirk flicks a glance the officer's way. "Mr. Spock, you have the conn."

The Vulcan rises from his station as Kirk strides into the lift. Only when the door is closed, removing Kirk from view, does Spock take the empty chair at the center of the bridge.

* * *

Jim Kirk settles a hip against an abnormally uncluttered desk, staring at his companion as if by sight alone he can decipher the mystery behind the man's expression. "You called, and I came," he reminds McCoy at length. "So, are you going to continue stabbing that PADD to death, or can we discuss what's on your mind?"

"Just a minute," growls his CMO. "Screen's stuck."

Jim nearly rolls his eyes. "The screen can't be stuck. We were refitted with top-of-the-line everything—machines, computers, equipment—you name it. I made certain of it."

McCoy pins his visitor with his best stink-eye. "Well I've been trying to make this damn thing scroll down for the last fifteen minutes. I'm telling you, it's _stuck_."

"Give it here," demands Kirk, already in the process of taking the device away. A moment later, he says in an aggrieved tone, "But how…? _You broke it._ "

The doctor snatches back the PADD. "I did no such thing!"

Jim stares at him in consternation. "That PADD was brand-new. Bones, how could you have possibly broken it already?" McCoy aims a swat at his head. The captain yelps, sliding sideways off the desk, narrowly avoiding impact with the doctor's weapon. "Don't hit me with that!"

"Why not?" the other man challenges. "It's already defective."

Jim eyes McCoy from a safer distance, eventually sighing through his nose. "This cannot be why you asked me to come to Sickbay." When McCoy doesn't answer right away, he folds his arms across his chest.

The CMO stares at the captain for a moment longer, then returns to facing his computer, discarding the inoperative data padd all together. "Of course I have a better reason." Kirk doesn't appear convinced, up until McCoy points at the computer screen. "Take a look at this."

Relaxing, Kirk grabs a chair and positions it next to McCoy. Then he leans around the man's shoulder to view the screen. "What am I looking at?"

"Don't be lazy, Jim. Read the entry."

With a huff, Kirk reads the entry. Once finished, he leans back in his chair. "Are you sure?"

McCoy turns to look at him. "Positive."

Jim doesn't say anything for a few seconds. Then, "How can I help?"

"That's the question, isn't it?" his physician—and longtime friend—remarks. "What can _we_ do?"

A twinkle comes into the captain's eyes. "I might have an idea."

"Well, it's not like I called you down here for your good looks."

Kirk laughs at that, and once his laughter dies down, he explains his plan.

* * *

"I must have heard you wrong," the Enterprise's engineering chief begins. "Did you say you want me to _break_ the ship?"

Kirk straightens his shoulders and in his calmest voice outlines his request a second time. By the end of it, Montgomery Scott is actively gaping at him.

"It won't be permanent," interjects the man at Kirk's side hurriedly. "And some common areas will need to remain unaffected, like the medical bay. Also, here is a list of personnel sensitive to any type of atmospheric change. Their cabins should be excluded from the—"

"Bones." Kirk lowers the stack of padds filled with instructions which McCoy is stubbornly holding out to the open-mouthed engineer. Then he makes the assurance, "We've thought this through."

Finally, that remark seems to rally Scott, enough for him to close his mouth and scrub a hand indecisively across his head. "Still, I dinnae know…"

"I'll take full responsibility," Kirk states firmly.

The doctor nudges the captain's side with his elbow. "We both will."

Jim blows out a gust of air, but knows better than to gainsay that declaration. After a short silence and exchanging a look with McCoy, he presses his Chief Engineer for an answer. "Well…? Can you do it, Scotty?"

The man's look of apprehension melts away almost immediately, replaced by a childish kind of delight. "Can I do it? Capt'n." He lets out a gleeful little laugh. "I thought ye'd never ask! I have just the trick to help ye lads out."

"Oh lord," says McCoy.

Grinning, Kirk claps a hand on each man's shoulder. "That's good news, gentlemen. Let us proceed with Operation Warm-A-Vulcan!"

Scott's still chuckling to himself as McCoy rolls his eyes and leans around Kirk to insist, "Don't tell a soul he said that. _Ever_."

"What?" Jim questions too innocently.

"My lips are sealed," promises their newest recruit. Then Scott rubs his hands together. "So, when can I start?"

Kirk's grin widens. "As soon as you can reasonably sneak into the control room."

"That shouldn't be a problem," claims Scott, "not when it's Montgomery Scott on the job!"

* * *

" _Engineer's log_ , delta shift, inside Environmental Controls. Mission? Top secret." The whispered narrative comes from a figure moving past a darkened corner of an empty room. "Not a soul in sight. Thank ye gods. I don't fancy a trip to the brig on account of getting caught by my own shipmates."

When the figure reaches his destination, he removes a large wrench from his gray coveralls. A moment later, something in the room fizzles and pops. The shadow man eyes his target warily before giving the side of the floor-to-ceiling mainframe another resounding _whack_ of his wrench.

"Warning. Reset imminent. Action not recommended," cautions the ship's computer.

Mr. Scott rolls his eyes. "Oh, just restart yourself already, ye bloody computer!"

" _Warning_ ," the computer repeats, insistent.

The man gives the machine two more determined thump-thumps—and, ship-wide, temperatures begin to rise.

* * *

"Captain on the bridge," announces a yeoman to her fellow crewmen as the ship's commanding officer is revealed to be the occupant of the newly arrived lift.

Kirk strolls onto the deck, garnering few raised eyebrows and even more stares. He plucks at his sleeveless gold tunic almost impishly, saying, "I always wanted a reason to try this out."

From her station, Communications Officer Nyota Uhura pauses the fanning of her face with her hand just long enough to observe, "You would be the only one, Captain."

Not offended at all, Jim gives her a bright grin and skips down the steps to his chair. He opens a channel to Engineering, making a point to question loudly, "Scotty! You figured out the problem in Environmental yet? Are repairs underway?"

Scott sounds much too amused as he replies, "Doin' my best, sir. Strange, but we've never experienced a malfunction in the circuits quite like this before. I'm afraid I dinnae have much to tell you yet."

Uhura halts her fanning again. When Kirk catches her staring intently at his face, he rearranges his expression from tickled to somber. "Understood, Mr. Scott. Keep me updated."

Cutting the call, Jim clears his throat, letting his gaze travel around the bridge. Some of the officers, like him, are sporting lightweight versions of their normal uniforms. Many of them do not seem to be enjoying the change in temperature. While they are grumpy, others simply appear dazed.

Jim's gaze finds its intended target. As if sensing the captain's interest, Spock pivots his chair around and meets the stare.

Slowly, Kirk looks over his first officer's uniform, noting it is identical to the one Spock had worn yesterday—undershirt and all. He smiles. "Doing well, Mr. Spock?"

Unblinking, Spock replies, "Affirmative."

 _Just what I wanted to hear_ , thinks Kirk, who then takes a seat. "Report," he says to his pair of helmsmen, and thus alpha shift is truly underway.

* * *

Two hours later, Kirk snorts awake. When he rubs his knuckles against his face, he realizes he is flushed and sweating a little bit at the temples.

He also isn't the only one who succumbed to the heat by dozing off. Loud snores emanate from Weapons, while the on-duty navigator is slumped over his station, cradling his head in his hands. At the far-right station, Sulu sits painfully straight-backed, nearly vibrating with the intensity of his stare at the main viewscreen. Jim leans forward to see the man's face. Despite appearances, Sulu's eyes are glazed. Uhura, he discovers, is absent, having at some point abandoned her station for an undisclosed reason.

At last, Kirk twists around to pinpoint the only normal sounds on the bridge. The sounds come from Science, in particular, Spock who appears to be working with single-minded focus; his long fingers fly over his console, skimming schematics, fitting together equations, logging data points. Unlike the others on the bridge, this officer's productivity has increased exponentially.

Jim wipes at a bead of sweat trailing along his hairline as he admires his handiwork. He shakes his head when the image of Spock grows briefly fuzzy.

Sometime later, the turbolift at the back of the bridge dings. Kirk blinks, for a moment seeing two McCoys walk out of the lift before they converge into one frowning man. McCoy stops just outside the lift's threshold, puts his hands on his hips, and purses his mouth at the lot of them.

Lifting a hand, Jim waves the doctor forward after discovering that his mouth and throat are a little too dry to use his voice.

McCoy ignores the invitation, however, instead veering off for a tour of the upper deck. There, McCoy wakes up the young fellow drooling over Weapons and tells him, "Get yourself to Sickbay." Then he continues his tour, occasionally laying a hand on someone's forehead, pushing a bottle of water into their hands, or giving them a long look and an order to vacate their post.

As though surfacing from a dream to the waking world, Spock pauses in his work when McCoy passes him by. Then he turns suddenly, directing his stare straight at Kirk. Jim is slow to react, simply staring back with a vague bemusement.

As still as the Vulcan is sitting, his station starts to do a strange little dance.

A snapping of fingers in front of Kirk's face brings his brain back online.

"Jim," McCoy says, his voice oddly gentle, having somehow arrived at Kirk's chair without the captain noticing. "You're looking peaky. I'm going to need you to head down to Sickbay with the rest."

"What?" Jim says back.

The doctor repeats, "Sickbay. You're overheated."

Jim shakes his head—and immediately ceases that action as the bridge tilts too far in one direction. McCoy wraps a hand around his arm, tugging him out of his chair. Jim thinks the dark-haired man says something like, "This might not have been a good idea."

"It was a great idea," Jim argues, swaying enough that the doctor has to use his other hand to fully steady Kirk. "Look how happy he is!"

McCoy hisses, " _Jim_ ," but oh, it is far too late.

"Doctor," the person in question intones from behind the pair. Then, "Captain."

Jim tilts his head to look back. "Whoa. Where did you come from?"

Spock stares down at him. Jim has the impression Spock is quickly reassessing his comfortable work environment against the unusual predicament the rest of the crew is in.

McCoy interrupts Kirk's train of thought by manhandling a sideways-lurching Jim right into the Vulcan's grasp. "Spock, help me get this fool to where he needs to be."

"Bones!"

"Hush, Jim. I told you to stay hydrated."

Jim laughs, pointing out inanely, "I don't have sleeves."

"Yeah, well, I'm in _shorts_."

Kirk looks down. Indeed, McCoy looks fit in his very, very non-regulation outfit. "Are those sandals?"

"God," complains the doctor, "I should have known. You Iowa boys know _nothing_ about summer wear."

Jim would make a smart comeback to that, except he is much too busy making certain he doesn't trip over his own feet. Not that he is actually walking on his own—more like being dragged along between a grumble-grouch teddy bear and a crook-necked statue made almost entirely of disapproval.

As the lift door slides closed on their three-person group, Spock wants to know, "Doctor, am I to assume you and the Captain are responsible for the ship's malfunctioning temperature controls?"

Before McCoy can hedge an answer, Jim proclaims proudly, "You're welcome!"

Mr. Disapproval looks even less pleased than he did a moment ago.

On the other side of Kirk, McCoy grimaces. "We can explain."

"You will explain, Dr. McCoy," the Vulcan informs them, but following a hard pause also decides, "immediately after Jim's treatment."

McCoy sighs against Kirk's ear, slipping his arm more firmly around Jim's waist to support his weight. "It's okay, Jim," the doctor murmurs for his hearing only, "you can pass out now."

"Thanks," Jim returns, and takes his CMO up on that offer.

* * *

 **TBC**


	2. Part Two

"Psst."

From the single bed and beneath a blanket, there comes a mutter, something like _go away_ , but the voice near the covered man's ear is insistent. " _Psst_ ," it hisses.

Jim yanks down the blanket with a snarl. "What now? I don't need another shot!"

It isn't a doctor or nurse who has come to plague him, he realizes almost immediately.

The man bent over Kirk tugs at the surgical mask concealing the lower part of his face. "Well, that's _rude_."

Jim identifies him in disbelief. "Scotty?"

"Aye," the Chief Engineer confirms before nervously taking in his surroundings. His voice drops another pitch. "But can ye not alert the entire bay that it's me?"

Jim levers up onto his elbows so he can see the entirety of his visitor's outfit. "What are you wearing?"

"Think it's from a surgery kit," murmurs Scott.

Kirk's disbelief only grows. "But _why?_ "

Pressing his mouth flat, the man looks like he wants to chastise his captain. But he only says, "Because if I walk in here looking like myself, _she'll_ find me."

"You've lost me," admits the man in the bed. "Who are you hiding from?"

Once again Scott's gaze flits around the bay, his countenance that of an extremely nervous man. "I don't know how the lass found out but she did." When Kirk's brows draw together questioningly, he clarifies, "Uhura _knows,_ " then, with more suspicion, demands, "Did you tip her off it was me who fiddled with that control board?"

"Scotty, I would never do that," Jim answers gravely. He takes a hold of the engineer's arm. "Look, if that's the case, you can't be here. Uhura has friends in Sick—"

They both freeze as Chapel's voice rings out across the ward.

Scott swallows hard. "Aye, I know, but I had to take the chance. Capt'n, we must have been mad to do what we did! And to think we could get away with it…" His voice falters momentarily, returning with more urgency. "Please, you have to help me!"

Jim squeezes the arm under his hand comfortingly. "Hide in my quarters."

"Tried that," Scott mutters miserably. "She got in by way of Mr. Spock's quarters. If I hadn't been in the main cabin looking for your whiskey, I wouldnae have made it out in time."

"Damn."

"Jim, ye know this ship as well as I do. Where do _you_ hide that sometimes even I cannae find ye for the Doctor or Mr. Spock?"

Jim hesitates but acknowledges that not just as a captain but as a friend he owes Scott for the trouble they have gotten into. He tugs the man forward, right until his mouth is by Scott's ear—and whispers the location of the secret hideaway.

Scott pulls back, his eyes wide, and whistles. "No wonder I never had any luck during those searches! Thank you, Jim," the man says earnestly. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome. Now get out of here before—"

"Captain. Captain!"

Scott's head starts to jerk around at Nurse Chapel's call, the nurse herself now approaching their corner of the ward with a business-like stride.

Kirk makes a snap decision, giving his friend a solid, forceful push in the opposite direction and the sharp command of "Go now, Mr. Scott!" Then Kirk rolls toward the nurse, smiling dumbly—and gracelessly falls off the side of his biobed into an undignified heap.

"Captain Kirk!" Chapel gasps, startled. The nurse hurries to his side, wanting to know if he is all right. After checking him over, she assists Jim from the floor back to sitting on the bed, asking what happened. But before he can answer any of her questions, the woman frowns past his shoulder at the figure in medical scrubs in the distance, fleeing in such a hurry that he causes others in the ward to scatter out of his way.

Kirk breaks into a coughing fit until the nurse's attention returns to him.

After helping him sip from a glass of water, she inquires, "Who was that, Captain?"

"Just a concerned crewman," Jim replies dismissively, lying back against his pillow.

"Ah," Chapel murmurs, oddly enough asking nothing more about the mysterious visitor. Then she rallies herself to cluck reprovingly at the man. "Dr. McCoy was specific with his orders, sir. You need to rest without interruption."

"Good ol' Bones," Kirk agrees amiably. "What would I do without him?"

Chapel smiles. "Since you feel that way, I'll tell him you want him to stop by in person for the next check-up."

Jim winces. "And what are the chances he won't bring along a hypospray of some kind to give me?"

She laughs and tucks the rumpled blanket securely around her patient's legs. Then, after notating something on a handheld padd from the monitor above Kirk's biobed, the nurse moves on to another patient.

Jim settles under the blanket with a sigh, closing his eyes to await the inevitable arrival of his CMO. That he's smiling as he does so is a surprise to no one in the near vicinity.

* * *

McCoy always has this inscrutable expression when he's looking over Kirk's chart, a look so unreadable that, in fact, Jim ends up nervous to hear the verdict every single time.

The doctor transfers his gaze from the chart to Kirk at last. "You're recovering as expected."

Jim perks up, hopeful now.

"I suppose," the man drawls more slowly, "I can release you."

Kirk firmly believes in positive reinforcement. He reaches forward to grab McCoy's hands. "Bones, you're _amazing._ Of course I'm fully recovered!"

McCoy jerks his hands back. "Fully recovered, my sainted aunt! Captain, if I wanted to keep you until then, you'd be in here two more days!"

Jim's mouth drops open, but he cannot think of anything to say to that. He lets his wilting frame speak for itself.

Raking a hand through his hair, McCoy huffs out his annoyance. "Kid… All right, stop with the kicked-puppy impression. I _am_ letting you go."

"Thank you, Doctor," Jim says, meaning it.

McCoy adds, "I'll stop by to check on you when my shift is over."

Jim slides out of bed and, when that risky venture causes no immediate negative reaction, lays a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Bones, you said a moment ago I'm doing better. You don't need to—" He stops when McCoy looks at him a certain way. "Never mind. Come over anytime. My door's always open for you."

The doctor nods once, stepping back. But just as Kirk turns away, McCoy reminds him, "No detours. No strenuous activities. Straight to your quarters to rest. If you don't obey your doctor's orders this time, I'll have you put back in this bed so fast, you'll get whiplash."

"Understood," he mutters. Shoulders hunched, the captain hurries out of Sickbay as quickly as his legs will carry him. His posture straightens once he arrives in the corridor, and his mood lightens.

It only occurs to Kirk later that his usual escort from Sickbay had been missing. Had McCoy called Spock, and Spock refused to come?

Doesn't matter, he decides, sobered by the fact. Spock demanded an explanation, and now that Jim is far enough along the road to recovery such that even his physician agrees that is the case, Spock will make good on his word. It's only a matter of time—at most, hours—before they cross paths.

* * *

True to Kirk's guess, that same day the end of the First Officer's double shift on the bridge brings the man to his superior's door. Kirk answers the first buzz, hears the familiar monotone say, "Captain," and responds without hesitation, "Come in, Mr. Spock."

The door leading to the corridor slides back, for a moment casting a silhouette of his second-in-command in parade rest across the floor of his quarters' main cabin. Then Spock strides inside—but quickly comes to an abrupt halt.

The Vulcan starts with "Capt—" only to correct himself to an emphatic " _Jim_."

Straightening away from the desk he had been leaning over in order to study his computer screen, Kirk turns around.

Spock's face is stony.

"What's wrong?" Jim demands, starting forward.

After a moment, the Vulcan's gaze travels the length of Kirk's torso.

The captain stills, looking down at himself. "Oh," he says, understanding immediately. But rather than reacting with embarrassment like any normal person, he smirks. "Ah, c'mon. You've seen me without a shirt before."

"Only when circumstances required it."

Kirk doesn't know whether or not he wants to be offended by that bland remark. He counters, "I'm not the one who picked this time to visit."

"Yet you did bid me enter, aware that you were in a state of undress."

Actually, he had forgotten about his bare chest but there is no way he'll admit that to Spock now.

A bark of laughter comes from the sleeping area, followed by a head poking itself around the wall partition of the bedroom—McCoy's.

"Jim, stop making others uncomfortable. Cover yourself."

One of Spock's eyebrows goes up.

McCoy goes on, "Don't mind him, Spock. He thinks he's got something to show off—"

Jim flushes.

"—when he doesn't."

Puffing up with indignation, Kirk spins around to face McCoy. " _Bones._ "

The doctor rolls his eyes. "Oh, spare me. I'm a doctor. I've seen better." The man grins suddenly. "Him, for one," he declares, pointing at their guest.

Jim spins back the other way.

Spock's other eyebrow has joined its twin. When Kirk looks the man over, his gaze narrowing considerably, Spock merely blinks. Kirk takes that as the Vulcan way of saying, _I'm not inclined to appease your curiosity_.

McCoy finally joins them in the main room, handing Kirk a tunic in the process. "If you two are done squabbling, why don't we sit down and have a conversation like adults?" He leads the way to the couch.

Letting go of a fight goes against the grain for Kirk even when he's on the losing side, but McCoy has a point. Donning the tunic, Jim settles on the couch's arm on the end farthest from the chair which is Spock's seat of choice. About equal distance from both, McCoy plops down on the couch with a gusty sigh.

Spock looks at Jim, placing his hands on his knees. Jim returns the stare, folding his arms across his chest.

"What a long day," McCoy announces, sighing again. "I could use a nap."

Spock turns his impassive gaze on the doctor. "Would it not be more prudent to retire to your quarters, Doctor?"

For some reason, McCoy looks amused.

Jim isn't. He bristles. "He's always welcome here."

"Now hold on," interjects the man in question, his tone sharp as he turns on Kirk. "Spock's welcome here too."

Jim opens his mouth, only to close it shortly thereafter with a nod. "He is."

Spock is considering him again. At least, Jim notes, Spock's "Thank you, Jim" sounds sincere.

"Lord, you two," mutters the doctor in the middle. "All right. Let's get this over with," causing Kirk and Spock to focus their attention on him again. "Somebody say something," McCoy insists when the pair continues to stare at him.

"I believe Jim and I would prefer that you begin the discussion." Spock flicks a glance to Kirk before adding, "As it appears you know best why we are here."

McCoy drawls, "Seems to me, Spock, the person with the grievance should go first."

The Vulcan's tone cools considerably. "Very well. Explain why you caused the temperature controls of the ship to operate incorrectly."

Jim has to know, "Will our answer determine whether or not you will file a formal complaint?"

"Affirmative."

Unexpected but impossible to ignore, a wave of anger burns through Kirk. He comes to his feet, demanding, "Do you trust us so little? Do you really think we would act without good cause?"

Spock's posture stiffens minutely. "I came here expecting— _hoping_ ," the Vulcan amends, "your actions are entirely excusable. It gives me no pleasure to confront either of you on this matter. Were it not for my duties as First Officer, it is unlikely we would speak of what occurred."

McCoy sits forward, looking shocked. "Spock, is that true?"

When Spock looks to the doctor, his hard stare wavers the slightest bit. "Yes, of course. Vulcans do not lie."

McCoy twists around to stare up at Kirk. "Jim, did you hear that?"

"I heard," Jim replies cautiously, not at all certain he comprehended Spock's explanation in the same way the other man did—especially now that McCoy's eyes are shining with pleasure.

"Spock is on our side," McCoy says.

Spock starts.

Jim's temper fizzles out of confusion. "Huh?"

McCoy breaks into a grin. "He just said he wouldn't fuss at us if he wasn't beholden to his oath."

It takes a few seconds to even think up a response to that. "Bones," Jim hazards, "maybe Spock was saying he would rather not know why we did something so reckless."

"The hell he did!" argues the doctor, pursing his mouth. "Clearly this man is our friend. He _likes_ us."

Spock has been switching his gaze between Kirk and McCoy like he doesn't know quite what to say—or with whom to agree—without making their conversation more awkward. His gaze finally stops at a midway point in compromise, something clearly occupying his thoughts.

An idea pops into Kirk's head. "Spock has a point, Bones. I think he should tell us if we were justified in our actions."

The Vulcan blinks then cocks his head at Jim as though he senses an ulterior motive.

Kirk just smiles thinly. "But you know, I have to wonder how he will feel knowing we did it for _him._ "

McCoy hisses through his teeth before turning to Spock. "It's not as horrible as it sounds."

Spock continues staring at Jim. He does sound faintly horrified. "You created an inhospitable work environment to please me?"

"We want you to be happy," Jim confirms.

At the Vulcan's lack of response, McCoy jumps up from the couch. He positions himself right in front of the man, blocking Kirk and Spock's view of each other. "Spock—no, don't look like that. Jim is… is being indelicate."

Behind McCoy, Jim simply folds his arms over his chest, ready to watch this scenario play out.

"Indelicate or otherwise, has he not spoken the truth, Doctor?"

"Yes, but…" McCoy lays a hand against his own chest. "The blame lies with me. Remember that last time I called Jim to Sickbay, saying I wanted to show him something? That something was about you." The man's face reddens. "Spock, I…"

McCoy's hesitation spurs the Vulcan to offer the gentle encouragement, "Go on."

"I've been monitoring your vitals. Off the record."

"Why?"

"I thought there was a reason to be concerned," murmurs the doctor. "I heard from a colleague of mine that 'Fleet ships aren't highly spoken of by Vulcans because they aren't… comfortable. So I thought," he adds, his voice becoming softer, less certain, "I should find out for myself if you weren't acclimating to our environment."

McCoy's concern for others is a beautiful thing, thinks Jim. Because of that, there isn't much he needs to do at this point.

Spock confirms the impression by rising from his chair to lock his hands behind his back. The action also carries him a step closer to McCoy. "Did it occur to you that you might ask me if I felt uncomfortable?"

McCoy shakes his head. "I figured you wouldn't give me a straight answer."

Spock studies the man with a slight tilt of his head.

Jim raises a fist to his mouth to hide a smile, then clears his throat. He glides around McCoy to stand adjacent to both men. "I can supply this next part, Mr. Spock. McCoy brought his concerns and the data to support it to me. I suggested how we might help you."

"Help?" repeats the Vulcan.

"Help you feel more comfortable on the ship," Kirk clarifies. "Tell me, was your productivity affected by the increase in temperature on the bridge that day?" When Spock doesn't answer right away, Jim goes on, "From my observation, it appeared as though you were quite… focused on performing your duties."

"Affirmative," comes the reply, at length. "It would seem, then, the objective of your plan was achieved." Spock looks from Kirk to McCoy. "But why would the comfort of one being justify risking the health of several others?"

McCoy's face flames, and a spark comes into the doctor's eyes that makes Jim grimace.

McCoy explodes, "Why, I have half a mind to walk right out of this room, Mr. Spock! No wonder Jim was so riled up earlier. You _do_ think we put the crew at risk like a couple of buffoons!"

Jim tsks. "It seems somebody didn't do his research."

Spock releases his hands as if to reach for one of them; after a moment, his arms come to rest at his sides. "Captain. Doctor. You must explain to me what I do not understand."

McCoy crosses his arms. "Oh, I'll explain all right, you green-blooded hobgoblin. Just because Jim and I like you doesn't mean we're incapable of thinking past our attraction."

Kirk clamps his mouth shut to keep from laughing at Spock's expression.

McCoy continues on, seeming oblivious to his confession. "If you took the time to figure out _where_ the temperature was fluctuating, if you looked into the immediate alerts that went out and _who_ they went to and if those crewmen had a safe place to go to avoid health complications, there's no way you would be asking us how we could jeopardize this ship. The short answer is we didn't. We minimized the risk until it was at an acceptable level for both Jim and myself. I had my staff making house calls in all the affected areas. Jim helped coordinate the handing out of the hydration supplies—" His gaze flicks to Kirk. "—although he could have done a better job of using them on himself. Frankly, Spock, I'm insulted you don't know us better."

Spock seems eager to agree. "I see. Doctor, I think you are correct in all aspects of your argument."

McCoy's expression changes from righteous anger to flabbergasted, looking positively stumped to hear Spock say he is right.

Jim, on the other hand, isn't buying it. "What does that mean?"

"In short, that I failed to realize you and Dr. McCoy would enact such an unnecessary scheme based on an emotional attachment."

McCoy says sharply, "Unnecessary?"

Jim cannot help but argue back, "That's because we're emotionally attached to _you!_ "

"Ah yes," says the unperturbed Vulcan, his arms now folded across his chest. "Shall we discuss this attachment in more detail?"

When both humans open their mouths but no remark is forthcoming, Spock merely raises an eyebrow at them before pressing on. "I have no appointments for the remainder of the evening. Would you care to have dinner with me?"

McCoy starts coughing. Jim chokes.

"Spock," he asks, needing to know, "why does it seem like you aren't surprised?"

Spock raises his other eyebrow. "Surprised, Jim? That is a human reaction."

"Oh no," McCoy butts in. "Don't you start with the 'it is logical' bit."

"I shall not attempt to, Doctor, as this entire discourse has been irrefutably illogical from the beginning. However," Spock goes on after a pause, "I am not unappreciative of this… unique motive of yours. In fact, I find it fascinating. Therefore I am willing to be enlightened further on the matter."

Kirk turns to McCoy. "I think that was his logical way of saying 'I like you too.'"

"He could've just said that," harrumphs Kirk's partner.

"I like you," Spock says dutifully.

Jim's grin must be catching because all of a sudden McCoy is grinning broadly too.

Jim responds formally, "We accept, Mr. Spock," as the doctor resumes his former position on the couch, this time with a sigh that is more content than aggrieved.

"Somebody order that dinner," McCoy tells them. "And leave off the dessert. My teeth are aching as it is."

Jim trades a look with Spock before heading over to his desk to do his doctor's bidding.

In the meantime, Spock takes a seat next to McCoy on the couch. "May I ask," Jim hears him say, "if you and Jim have considered a more sustainable solution to your observation than tampering with Environmental?"

"Oh, I believe we're already working on that next plan," is McCoy's impish answer. "How opposed are you to sharing body heat, Spock?"

* * *

" _Stop right there_ ," pleads the man, whose head is currently poking out of a ceiling vent. "I dinnae need to know what happened after that."

A twinkle in his eyes, Jim Kirk smiles and stuffs his hands into his pants pockets. "Long story short, since the trouble with Mr. Spock is fixed, now I am able to assist with your problem, Scotty."

"Problem? I don't have a problem," the engineer insists.

"You've been hiding in that tube for two days."

" _Well…_ "

Kirk clears his throat. "Lieutenant, you can come out now."

Scott gasps when Nyota Uhura steps into view.

"Monty," the woman says, clearly exasperated, "get down here."

"Betrayer!" the Chief Engineer cries to his captain. "How could you—!"

Jim flaps a hand. "See, I fixed it. Now Uhura knows why Bones and I asked you to break the ship." He tells the woman, "It wasn't Scotty's fault."

Uhura rolls her eyes. Then she goes up on her toes and snags the sleeve of Scott's uniform. The man flails his captured arm but otherwise is unable to retreat into the vent system.

Shaking his head, Jim leaves the pair to their personal business, as he has faith that his romantic tale will help others in their own ventures. Halfway to the main shaft, he begins to whistle a tune that carries up and down the Jeffries tube. "Spock," he calls after he flips open a communicator, "fetch Bones. Operation Setup-A-Engineer is complete, but Scotty may need some medical attention after Uhura is done with him."

" _Acknowledged. We are on our way, Captain._ "

 **The End**


End file.
